


Her Wolf

by BookDragon14



Series: Shattered [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Hela is Loki's mom, i wrote this instead of finals, or sleeping like a normal person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 16:19:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13057635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookDragon14/pseuds/BookDragon14
Summary: An AU where Hela is Loki's mom, this is my take on her perspective of the events pre and post Ragnarok.  It isn't very long but there is some Lokyrie in it.





	Her Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Marvel fanfic, please leave a comment if you enjoyed it; whether it's compliments, complete hatred all feedback is appreciated! P.S. constructive criticism is always welcome, I am always looking for ways to improve what I write. Thanks for reading!

She is neither a monster, nor a hero. She is the Goddess of Death, and Death bows to no one. That is why, when the Allfather casts her out, she finds a new kingdom. Its lands are a frozen wasteland, its people are savage, and its king is strong. It takes her only a short amount of time to claw her way into his court, and, soon enough, his bed.

The child she bears him is small, much smaller than his towering brute of a half-brother. However, the magic that flows through him is hers, and that is strong. Laufey, the gullible idiot that he is, calls the newborn weak. The fool. Laufey cannot see the power that manifests in the child's blood. It sings through his bones and swirls beneath his skin. It is his birthright; he is the Child of Death and Prince of Two Kingdoms. He is her Little Wolf.

The blood of two realms flows though his veins. At the mere touch of a Frost Giant's hand, his skin gleams blue and his eyes shine blood red, much to Hela’s distaste. However, when she holds her baby, his skin is pale as a corpse. His hair sleek and as black as Fenrir's had been, and his eyes are the same corpse-flame green as her own. When she goes to war on Midgard, she leaves him behind, swaddled in furs and clutching a blunted dagger in his tiny fist.

Hela expects to meet her father on Midgard, but her army is no match for the legions of Æsir soldiers that stand in her way. It is on Midgard that Odin banishes Hela, by forcing her through a portal into a place so small she can barely call it a world. It is made of dark stone and mist, stagnant water, and the ancient bones of those who were exiled here before her.

* * *

 She remains there for years, in the darkness, waiting for the doorway to open. The Allfather is old and although the gate never opens, one day his enchantment weakens almost enough for her to slip through. Odin sends the Valkyrie to subdue her; to send her back into the dark and the cold. To send her away from her kingdom, away from her vengeance, and away from her son.

The Valkyrie are slaughtered by Hela, but their sacrifice gives Odin the time and strength to close the doorway again. He strengthens its locks to ensure that as long as he lives she can never escape. She wonders if that was his plan all along.

The Goddess of Death murmurs the words of the age-old prayer to send the Valkyrie to Valhalla, with a green corpse-flame glowing in her palm. She had trained with many of these women, taught others, and fought beside almost all of them in the Allfather’s wars. She bears them no ill will, and curses Odin for sentencing them to their deaths, sentencing her to kill them. Hela crouches beside the body of Freyja, leader of the Valkyries, and gazes upon the familiar face, now twisted in agony. Bowing her head, she whispers another prayer for the soul of her former friend to have a swift and easy journey to Valhalla. A choked sob catches Hela's attention and she turns to see a Valkyrie sitting up, tears streaming down her face as she cradles a body in her arms.

It was Brynhildr. Bryn. One of the last Valkyrie Hela had trained before her exile. Brynhildr was one of the best pupils Hela had ever taught. The body in her arms is that of her lover, Sigrdrífa, another notable Valkyrie. Bryn's face is buried in Sig's golden hair as her body trembled with sobs. She looks up to see Hela, her dark eyes filled with hatred. Bryn raises her Dragonfang blade towards Hela as she stands.

The Goddess of Death is not entirely without pity. She knows loss only too well. As the girl stumbles towards Hela a blade materializes in the goddess' hand. It is black and as twisted as her soul. Hela cannot bring herself to kill this last warrior, so as their blades clash she shoves her backward, forcing her out of this world and into another. Hela doesn't know which, but this is as much as she can do.

* * *

 It is that night that she discovers how to watch. Her Seidr is weakened from the battle, and from years spent in this dark abyss. However, it is strong enough to send a tiny part of her soul out into the nine realms. She wanders, unseen, through the wilds of Jotunheim, looking for her son. She searches Midgard and finds it changed since she was last there. Finally, out of desperation, she travels to Asgard. Heimdall sees her come, but he knows that she can do nothing in this form, so he lets her pass.

Hela slips through the gilded corridors, her bright green eyes searching the palace. She finds her son sitting beside the Allfather, with her younger brother at his side and Frigga standing behind them, watching. The Allfather can see her, and he stares over his son's head at the shadow of his daughter - his firstborn, his rightful heir. He stands, and his face grows cold and stony. He shouts a spell and she feels her form being pulled back to her prison. As she leaves she sees her mother watching sadly, and the two boys looking from their parents to the spot where they are staring at.

The boys cannot see her, but as she grows faint and weak Hela holds out her arms, reaching in vain for the son that doesn't even know she exists. Then she lets the spell drag her away, dumping her back into her body, far away from her son.

* * *

 Not long after that day Frigga visits Hela. Since Frigga cannot be there herself, she sends an illusion. Bitter as she is, Hela can't help but be glad to see the Queen of Asgard.

"Did you know?" Is the first thing she says, refusing to look at her mother. "When father took him, did he know he was mine?"

"He knew," Frigga replies softly, "we both did. From the moment we saw his eyes."

"Then why did you keep him? Why did you not give him back to me!"

"Because we went wrong with you. We know that now... he knows it. We cannot go back and change what we did, but maybe if we give your son a chance at the life you never got, his fate may not turn out like yours. I often wonder had we raised you like we are raising Thor and Loki, things might have been different."

"Different?" Hela's bitter laugh could have made oceans freeze and hearts quake with fear, "I am the Goddess of Death mother! It is what I was born to be. I cannot change my nature, any more than father can change his, whatever he may pretend. I was born for battle, war is the ground I walk on, and the air I breathe. Without it I am nothing."

"You are my daughter," Frigga says quietly, never breaking eye contact. "Is that not something? Is that not enough?"

"Am I? Am I you daughter anymore? I have walked the streets of Asgard and listened to its people as the city grows and thrives on the blood and riches of battles that are now long forgotten thanks to father. The people talk of Thor, Prince of Asgard, God of Thunder, Odin's precious firstborn heir. They know nothing of our true history, nothing of the heroes and wars that brought us our wealth and our power.

"They don't know who I am, they don't know that Odin had a daughter who rode by his side during his wars. They don't know the sacrifice of my fallen friends who died to bring Asgard to what it is today. They don't remember my wolf Fenrir who tore apart our enemies in defence of our people during the Kree invasion. The Allfather erased our past like it was nothing! As if I was nothing!"

Frigga was silent. Her daughter stood staring at her, eyes glittering with unshed tearsas her body trembled with rage. Frigga pulled Hela close and hugged her tightly. Then she began to fade softly, for her magic was already strained getting here, and she could only hold the image for so long.

"You will always be my daughter Hela. Please remember that. I will always love you, just as I love your brother. And your son. Hela. Should you ever visit him again be careful. Odin will be on guard, stay out of his way."

"You're not going to try to stop me from seeing him?"

"I could never be kept from visiting my children. Even here. I could not do that to you, my daughter."

Hela is silent for a moment, and then she sighed, "Thank you."

"He is usually in the library, or his chambers practicing Seidr. He has your gift. Farewell daughter, may we meet again soon."

"Wait. He doesn't know, does he? He doesn’t know that I am his mother. Does he even know who he truly is? Will you ever tell him?"

"No. He does not know. And I cannot tell him, not yet. It would break him, Hela. One day he will know, one day he will meet you again, but until then, let him have a childhood."

Hela glared furiously at her mother, a snarl curling her lip. Anger was glowing in her poison-green eyes. The Queen of Asgard fades away as her daughter screams. It is a sound that, in the days of Odin's wars, could freeze seasoned warriors in their tracks and make the very Earth shake with terror in the face of her fury.

They had no right. No right to lock her up like a pet that had fallen out of favour and replaced. They had no right to cast her out and hide her away, erasing her from the history of the world she helped to build. They had no right to take away everything she cared about, her home, her birthright, her wolf, her son.

Rocks shatter, pools steam, and the rotted bones of the Valkyrie army shiver in their graves as Hela shrieks her rage to the steel-grey sky. She knows the Allfather can hear her, he created this prison and his missing eye sees far and deep. So, she rages, her black blades flying in every direction as she rails against all that has been done to her.

When the very last ounce of rage left her body, she rests. She resolved to save all the energy she can muster to slip a piece of herself through the gap the Allmother left behind. It's not enough for Hela to escape fully, but it is enough to watch the worlds outside. This is not what she wants, but she will take what she can get. She watches through the gap for years.

Hela sees the Allfather grow weaker, the Odinsleeps deeper and more frequent. She sees Thor rise like the sun in the East, and her own child slipping through the shadows at his side. She sees how he dresses in the same black and green she did, his Seidr growing strong and fast. She knows why Odin frowns on it, calling it womanish and unfit for a Prince of Asgard. It is because he is afraid of Loki becoming like her.

Hela's magic was a rival to the Allfather's. Her skill at conjuring magic is unparalleled in all the Nine Realms. The same magic runs through Loki's veins, though his own brand of spells ran more toward illusion and trickery than her own.

Hela watches as her son discovers his true parentage (well, not exactly. Her parents neglect to tell him who his mother is. Surprise, surprise). She sees the destruction his grief and anger cause, sees him turn on Midgard, and be imprisoned in the dungeons of Asgard. She mourns with him when Frigga dies, sending him what strength and power she can from her prison, to aid him in his vengeance.

She watches the Kursed blade pierce his chest, and sees his broken, bloody form grow limp and cold in Thor's arms. Here, finally, she can help him. She is not called the Goddess of Death for nothing. Hela snatches her son's soul as it leaves his body, pulling it back to her. She cannot keep him long, but as her magic heals his body she sits beside his spirit in her prison.

"My son," she says, stroking his cheek with fingers cold as death as he watches her in confusion, "my Little Wolf."

She sends him back, binding his soul to flesh and blood and bone. He will not remember her, but it matters not. Odin's end is near, and soon she will be able to escape her banishment and join her son once more. She sees him masquerade as Odin for four years, watching with pride at how powerful and skilled he grew in Seidr. Then at last she is free.

The Allfather is gone. Hela could feel her strength returning as she wrenches open the gates of her prison to step into the light of the Midgardian sun. Odin’s sons wait for her on the other side. She sees a frown twist Loki's lips, eyes narrowing and brow furrowing in confusion at a half-forgotten memory that tugs at the corners of his mind like a hungry wolf.

"So, he's gone. Shame, I would've liked to have seen that."

"I'm Thor, son of Odin." The blonde spoke with a voice deeper than Odin’s ever was.

She knows this of course, she has watched him since he was a child. "You don't look like him."

"Perhaps we can come to an arrangement." Loki was hesitant to speak, but his voice was confident, and the tone was oh so familiar.

"You sound like him," disappointment colours her tone, both at his relation to her father and to the fact that he seems to not remember who she is.

She throws them both from the Bifrost on their way to Asgard, and she sees a brief glimpse of colour and junk; Sakaar. He will do well there, it is chaotic, and the Grand Master is as gullible as his father. Thor on the other hand... well Sakaar would be a good place to get her little brother out of the way.

* * *

Her rule is brief, thanks to Thor and his little band of misfits. She had to admit her little brother was not as stupid as he had first seemed, summoning Surtur had been a rather brilliant way of defeating her. But it had not worked as they had hoped. Hela was the Goddess of Death, she could not die, not really. She is weak, her magic frayed and faltering, but she is alive. She watches.

She sees Thor rise to become king of what is left of Asgard. She sees the stolen ship head to Midgard. From the depths of Niflheim she sends her consciousness out to walk the halls of the ship. She sees her brother discussing something with a strange creature comprised entirely of stone, while Heimdall looks on impassively.

The watcher's golden eyes fix on her, fingers twitching towards his blade, but the goddess summons a blade and lays it on the ground between them. He pauses, then dips his head, and she hears him murmur the words, "Watch, but do not interfere."

The Goddess of Death inclines her head in return, then turns to watch Thor. He will make a good king, far better than their father. Perhaps even better than her; she would have made Asgard powerful and strong, but he will make them happy and make sure they survive. Hela turns and wandered through the hallways, now deserted of Æsir and Thor’s allies who were now sleeping. She does not know the layout of the ship, nor even what the right door looks like, but blood magic is strong.

She can feel her own powers humming through her veins, calling to his. A few minutes later she is stepping into a dimly lit room and standing face to face with her son. He is sitting up in bed, sheets bunched around his waist.

Her gaze is dragged away from his face by a movement and a soft noise from the form lying beside him. A mess of dark hair is splayed around the pillow, and the bit of skin that shows above the blanket contrasts starkly with Loki's pale complexion. A set of daggers rests on the nightstand beside them.

"Hela."

"Loki."

"You're supposed to be dead."

"I'm the Goddess of Death. I cannot die."

"What are you doing here?"

She can see his hand inching its way toward his knives and smirks, "I wanted to see you of course. Can't a mother just drop by to check on her long-lost son?"

Every muscle in his body went rigid, and he trembled in shock at her words. Then he looked up, the emerald eyes that were so like her own filled with doubt and anger. But when he spoke his voice was calm, detached, and as cold as the ice of the planet on which he was born.

"You are not my mother."

Hela smirked in amusement at his ignorance. "Really, I thought you were supposed to be the God of Lies. You'd think that you would be able to tell when someone is telling the truth."

He frowned in defiance, "Frigga was the one who raised me, the one who taught me and loved me, I don't care who my birth mother is! And even if I did I don't believe that you are her!"

"Oh, but you are my son. I have been watching you since you were small, I know that you're too smart not to have noticed the similarities. I'm glad you took after me instead of that fool Laufey. I was worried you might inherit too much of his weakness, but you are all mine, aren't you? Your magic, you mind, your lust for power, your hatred and bitterness, you even look like me!"

"I am Frigga's son, not yours. My birth family abandoned me to die!"

"My mother cared for you, that is true enough, you are her grandson after all. But I didn't abandon you. I left you behind when I went to battle, and Odin stole you from the temple and slaughtered your guardians. I tried to return, but Odin's prison was too strong."

She approaches him slowly, each step measured and slightly sinister. He stares at her with eyes wide and frozen as a deer watching a hunter. She smiles and sits on the edge of the bed next to him, tracing his face with icy fingers.

He trembles slightly under her touch, frozen in shock and horror. She chuckles, low and soft, a smirk curving her lips.

"You are my son Loki, my Little Wolf. You are my child, not Laufey's, not even Frigga's, and especially not Odin's. You are mine."

She leaned forward and - she froze and looked down. The hilt of a dagger sticks out from between her ribs. She looks up to see the Valkyrie sitting up, another blade held lightly in her hand.

"That was for Sig. This-" another dagger in her flank, "is for all the sisters I lost that day.”

"And this one is for me." She hefted her Dragonfang and thrust it into the Goddess' stomach.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you managed to make it to the end of my mediocre writing, kudos to you, and thank you. All comments are appreciated! Thanks you to CaptainCricket, for volunteering to beta this story, and to gaslightgallows(hearts_blood), whose amazing fic [Three Queens](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13008987%20) inspired me to write this (you may see some similarities, this is not intentional, the idea's are just so good that it was hard not to use a couple). Anyway, thanks for reading!


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